


Clarity

by aliatori



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: First Kiss, Happy Birthday Gladio, I Love You, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, poet!Gladio, this is so cheesy and I don't care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 03:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14179536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliatori/pseuds/aliatori
Summary: Ignis tries to surprise Gladiolus for his birthday and receives a surprise of his own.





	Clarity

Ignis glances at the crystal face of the watch on his left hand—7:36PM—and increases his walking speed to a pace between ‘brisk’ and ‘jog.’ He’d meant to be at the venue 20 minutes ago, but of course his Council meeting ran late, and then Noctis had been struck by a rare bout of chattiness when Ignis called to check on him, and then finding a parking space in Insomnia’s crowded entertainment district took far longer than anticipated…

No matter. He’s almost there now, and that’s what counts. Ignis detests being late and fears his three piece suit to be overdressed for an open mic night, but this is the last chance he’ll get to survey the bistro before Gladio’s birthday next week.

Thinking about Gladio’s birthday threatens to tie his stomach in a knot. He wouldn’t normally perform reconnaissance on a potential date location, but it’s not just any date—it’s Gladio. Or rather, he hopes it will be a date with Gladio. If he says yes. 

Ignis hasn’t asked him yet.

He wants all the pieces in place before he does. A small part of him wonders if his planning is procrastination in disguise, but Ignis tries not to examine the sentiment too closely. He realizes he’s taking an unnecessary risk by planning to ask Gladio out on his birthday. He’s sure to be busy with Clarus and Iris, or his other friends in the ‘Guard, or with the regular duties of a Shield-in-training that occupy a large portion of his day and don’t cease for birthdays...

Enough, Ignis thinks. One step at a time.

A few more minutes of traversing the sidewalk brings the bistro into view, the gold script above the door reading _Vice & Virtue_ glimmering in the sunset. Ignis withholds his judgment on the rather pretentious name until he sees the interior, which comes into view as he turns the brass handle on the wooden door and enters the establishment.

His mouth begins to water as soon as he steps inside. A rich, fragrant smell of roasted coffee permeates the cozy bistro. He means cozy in the flattering sense of the term rather than the pejorative one; the rustic decor possess a certain charm that Ignis can’t deny. It reminds him of the sitting room in his familial home, tastefully decorated and skirting the edge of cluttered without tipping over. The lighting is soft and warm, a bright halo on the stage to his left and dimmer shadow to the right where a barista idles behind a counter.

While crowded, Ignis spots a few empty seats near the back of the small seating area. He approaches the barista and quietly orders an espresso, then points out a fluffy chiffon cake resting in the display case and adds it to his order on a whim, tapping a black and silver card on a machine to pay. He winces at the loud hiss of the espresso machine—thankfully, the counter is situated at the opposite end of the café as the stage—but accepts both coffee and pastry in short order.

Ignis finds an unoccupied two-seater and settles in with his food and drink. There’s a woman performing what he identifies as spoken word poetry. He admires the passion the woman puts into each line and can’t help but think Gladio would as well. The part of him that assists in the day-to-day operation of the Citadel notes a litany of the more pedantic details: the speakers are arranged in a surround fashion in the corners of the room, the sound quality is quite good given that it’s a cafe as opposed to a more suitable venue, and there are just enough people to make the atmosphere lively but not overwhelming. He reminds himself to ask about the possibility of reservations next week though he doesn’t think it likely.

The more performances Ignis hears, he more he’s certain this would be an ideal location for a (as of yet unconfirmed) first date. There seems to be some sort of pre-determined roster that the performers rotate through; everyone knows when they’re up for their slot with minimal fuss. According to the reviews Ignis read online, the _Vice & Virtue_ predominantly features poets of several varieties, and the hour Ignis spends seems to confirm his findings.

He’s about to take his leave when a familiar figure gives him pause. True, the light is dim, and the long sleeved shirt conceals the bold, feathered tattoo that Ignis would recognize anywhere, but…

It’s _Gladio_. It’s Gladio, and he’s taking his place on the stool front and centre of the stage. Gladio wears a relaxed smile as he adjusts himself on the stool, his dark hair pulled back into a tight bun near the top of his head. Ignis can see the same confidence in him that he sees when they spar, or when he’s encouraging Iris to embark on some new endeavor, or on the rare occasion he passes the training room when Gladio’s working with new recruits. That confidence draws Ignis to Gladio every time he witnesses it, without fail.

He’s also breathtakingly handsome, but then again, he always is. 

A hysterical, reactionary giggle threatens to burble out of Ignis’s mouth. He certainly hadn’t missed the mark as far as this bistro being to Gladio’s taste. He can feel his fight-or-flight response activate as though he’s in danger, though his composure is the only thing in any real danger. It seems somewhat voyeuristic to stay and listen to Gladio read poetry, but any sudden movement on Ignis’s part now is sure to draw Gladio’s attention.

After several deep, quiet breaths, Ignis begins to settle. It’s not a far stretch to imagine he’s just had to endure some barbaric jab at the hands of a Council member—in fact, that’s part of the reason he was late tonight in the first place. Ignis eases into the glossy calm that’s like second nature to him. 

The calm shatters as soon as Gladio begins to read in his soothing bass.

> “‘I prefer my world to be crystal clear.’  
>  that’s what you said to me once  
>  (only once)  
>  wearing half a grin like a challenge  
>  as you settled your glasses back on your face.  
>  you didn’t need to say it, really—  
>  I’ve known the ins and outs of you so long  
>  that you’ve become a comfortable labyrinth."

Oh, sweet Astrals. The poem Gladio’s reciting from memory… is about him.

Ignis remembers saying those words to Gladio. He’d taken Ignis’s glasses off the bench in the locker room and waved them above his head, teasing as he was wont to do.

 _You don’t even need ‘em, Iggy_ , Gladio’d said. _I’ve seen you bean Noct in the head with his dirty underwear from across his apartment without ‘em._

Ignis had seized an opening to snatch his glasses from Gladio’s grasp. _Yes, well,_ _I prefer my world to be crystal clear_. It had become a running joke between them after that… or so Ignis had thought.

He no longer believes it to be a joke. By the Six.

>   
>  “but then I wondered, no, worried, no—  
>  hoped? thought  
>  about that clarity  
>  and if it applies to me."

Ignis worries for a moment that he might fall out of his chair and cause a scene. Some part of him wants to shout— _of course it applies to you, you amazing man, I’ve only been madly in love with you for practically as long as I’ve known you—_ but it’s a miniscule part. The rest of him sits frozen still in his chair, pulse roaring in his ears and too stunned to breathe.

> “do you see the glances I steal in your direction  
>  like a starving thief in squalor, harbouring a hunger  
>  that nothing can feed but you?  
>  do you hear the effort to my laughter,  
>  _light and easy, light and easy,_  
>  caging out (caging in) a love that fights to be free?  
>  does this lucidity extend  
>  to the longing I wear like a second skin  
>  under title and ink and muscle?  
>  can you tell that I’ve etched  
>  the shape of my name from your lips  
>  so deep in memory that I’ll never forget the sound?"

Yes. No. _What?_ Ignis’s mind reels. He lifts the delicate coffee cup to his lips and tries to take a drink before he remembers it’s long empty. His heart thuds against his ribs so quickly that it starts an acute ache in his chest. Gods, he’d scarcely dared to hope that Gladio would agree to a date—Ignis knows their schedules would make a relationship difficult, let alone the possibility of ruining their long standing friendship.

Yet here he is, sitting in a coffee shop, listening to Gladio recite an incredibly intimate poem of which he is undoubtedly the subject. This is the most ridiculous, romantic situation Ignis can conceive of. His body heats like it did when he learned to harness the king’s magic, sweat breaking out beneath his arms and beading at his temples.

A tickle climbs up Ignis’s throat and, before he can stop himself, he coughs. And, _Six take him_ , it’s enough to draw Gladio’s gaze to Ignis.

Gladio fumbles the last word in the stanza as he stares as Ignis. After a single instant of unbridled shock, his face smooths out, returning to its previous serene focus. Ignis admires his composure as he dives right back into his reading.

He doesn’t take his eyes off Ignis as he reads through to the conclusion. It’s difficult for Ignis to make out the nuances of Gladio’s expression from this distance, but the last thing he can do is look away.

> “‘I prefer my world to be crystal clear.’  
>  I know.  
>  and maybe I’d just be a muddy complication,  
>  messy and uncertain—  
>  only the Astrals know for sure.  
>  but I’d like to believe I wouldn’t.
> 
> after all, what could be more clear  
>  than a sparkle in your seafoam eyes,  
>  than my arms wrapped ‘round your body,  
>  than the warmth of your mouth on mine?"

The room breaks out into polite applause once Gladio signals his completion. He stands, executes a charming bow courtesy of his Amicitia breeding, and exits stage left to the remaining smattering of claps. It’s too much to hope that Gladio will pretend he didn’t notice Ignis—he veers straight towards Ignis’s seat in the back of the room.

Once he reaches the little table, Ignis looks up. Astrals help him, there’s a palpable tension between them. Gladio gives a strained smile. His palms are flat on the wooden surface of the table as he studies Ignis. A stab of panic lances through Ignis. Is he upset?

“Wanna step outside for a few?” Gladio asks.

“Lead the way,” Ignis says.

They make their way through the crowd and out to the patio in front of _Vice & Virtue_. The later hour has threaded a chill through the early spring air, but Gladio doesn’t seem to notice. He sighs, the noise lost to the sound of cars passing on the busy street beside the strip of businesses.

“So…” Gladio starts. He goes to rake a hand through his hair but stops as it reaches his bun. “That was a thing. Never in a million years thought this would be your kinda place, Iggy.”

There’s a strange defensive note to Gladio’s tone that makes the hair on Ignis’s arms stand on end. “Gladio, I apologize. It wasn’t my intent to intrude upon your private space.”

“Did someone put you up to this? I keep this shit on the down low for a reason, but a couple buddies have come out before…”

“No!” Ignis’s own vehemence surprises him. “No. I…” It’s his turn to pause, to remove his glasses and clean them, to stall for a precious second to corral his wild thoughts. He decides on blunt honesty. “Forgive me if this sounds presumptuous, but I had intended to ask you on a date and propose _Vice & Virtue _as the location. As I wasn’t familiar with the nature of these events, I wished to attend one before extending an invitation.”

Gladio stares at him for what feels like an eternity and a half. And then he begins to _laugh_ , a deep belly laugh that sends a pulse of relief through Ignis’s limbs.

“Huh, the Gods really do have a twisted sense of humor,” Gladio says once he can breathe enough to speak, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Figures you’d come on the night I finally get the courage to read the crap I wrote about you.”

A flush creeps into Ignis’s cheeks unbidden. “I rather liked it, particularly the last part.” He forces himself to meet Gladio’s eyes. “Would you care to put your theory to the test?”

“What?” Gladio asks, taking a step towards Ignis and closing the distance between them.

Ignis should care more that they’re on a busy street on a Friday night, but he doesn’t. Emboldened by hope, he gently reaches out for Gladio’s hands. He guides them to his hips once he’s sure there’s no resistance.

“Your hypothesis about the clarity of your arms wrapped around me,” Ignis begins, tilting his face upwards, “and the warmth of your mouth on mine.”

Gladio draws Ignis a hair closer, his hands warm and steady on Ignis’s waist. “Oh. Yeah. That.” His blush—when was the last time Ignis saw Gladio blush, if ever?—suffuses his cheeks with dusky rose colour.

“I’m going to kiss you now, Gladiolus, if that’s quite alright with you,” Ignis declares.

“I think you got your answer in there,” Gladio says with a heated laugh, jerking his chin towards the bistro.

Ignis cups the back of Gladio’s neck and draws him down into a kiss, no more than a chaste press of lips. It’s Gladio who parts his lips first for Ignis, yielding to the gentle pressure that Ignis applies, and the warm caress of their tongues is a poetry all its own.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading if you made it this far! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated if you enjoyed. <3
> 
> Feel free to come hang on out [Tumblr](http://aliatori.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/AliatoriEra) for more shameless Gladiolus appreciation.


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